My mother isn't just the head of the Nero family. She's the chairwoman of the Commission—the coalition that controls every Italian operation in New York. The Marinis, the Costas, the Russos. They all defer to her. They all answer to her.
And when she steps down, they'll defer to me.
If they think I'm ready.
"She wants me at a charity gala," I tell Leo.
"Of course she does." Leo is already texting someone, probably arranging cleanup for our guest. "You're her heir. She wants you to be seen."
"I'm busy ensuring that the entire city is terrified of her."
"By what? Torturing mid-level employees?" He glances at the man in the chair with something like pity. I never know if it's for the person, the situation, or something else. Leo is a complex individual. "This one's told you everything he knows. Either kill him or let him go but do it quickly. You're going to be late."
He's right, which pisses me off.
I walk back to the man, lean down until we're eye level. He's trembling so hard the chair creaks. I press a hand to his cheek, pressing my fingers into his jaw. "Tonight is your lucky evening."
He's sobbing openly, and I'm disgusted.
"You're going to leave the city," I tell him. "Tonight. And you're never going to work in shipping again. If I see you, if I hear your name, if you so much as think about coming back to New York, I will make sure that your entire family is dead."
He nods frantically. "Yes. Yes, I'm gone. Thank you?—"
Leo makes a phone call and two of my men appear from the service entrance. They haul the man out, still crying, still thanking me.
"You're getting soft," Leo says.
"I'm bored." I head toward my bedroom, already pulling off my shirt. There's blood on the cuff, and I need to change anyway for this gala. "Killing him wouldn't have been fun. He'd already pissed himself, and I'd only taken an eye. Plus, like you said, he's low level."
"And yet you let him live."
"He's not worth the cleanup." I strip out of my pants, grabbing my tux. "Besides, Bianca wants me presentable. Hard to show up to a gala with blood under my fingernails."
Leo follows me, leaning against the doorframe as I head into the bathroom. I turn the water on hot enough to sting.
"What do you think she wants?" Leo asks from outside the door.
"To remind me I'm still waiting." I step under the spray, watching pink-tinged water circle the drain. "The Morozov family has been pushing boundaries. She'll want me to handle it, but on her terms. Her timeline. Her strategy."
"And you'd rather just handle it yourself?"
"I'd rather put a bullet in Alexei Morozov's skull and be done with it." I scrub my hands, watching the last of theblood disappear. "But that's not how Bianca operates. She wants negotiation. Posturing. Chess moves."
"She's kept the entire Commission unified for twenty years," Leo says. "That takes more than bullets."
He's not wrong. "I respect what she's done," I admit, shutting off the water. "Keeping five families from tearing each other apart while the Russians try to move in? That takes skill." I grab a towel. "I just don't think she's the only one who can do it anymore."
Leo doesn't answer. He never speaks against my mother. After all, she is his actual boss.
"I'm going to go and make sure those two port authority agents are dealt with," Leo says.
I grunt, and finish dressing in silence.
By the time I'm ready, I look nothing like the man who was elbow-deep in someone else's blood twenty minutes ago. I look like old money. Like power. Like everything the Nero name represents.
Bianca will be pleased.
It doesn't take long to get to the mansion. Manhattan traffic is at a weird lull.
